A Siren Song
by azal3a
Summary: "Don't you get it? They don't see you as Cato Hadley. They only see you as Career Tribute from District 2. That won't change when you win the games. You'll just be Career Victor from District 2. " Cato pulled me closer. For a moment, I wondered if he would kiss me and if his lips would taste like blood or a battle cry. He whispered, "And you? Who do you see me as?"
1. 1: Children of the Sea

In District 4, one way or another, we all return to the water.

Everything we did revolved around the sea and its bounties. From our studies, our jobs, our way of life, our language, our culture, our memories, our comfort, our heart break— _everything_. I had too many memories with the water, growing up close to the shore: memories both immaculate and earth-shattering. Quite like the sea. My most treasured one was on one of the warmest days when I was seven years old. With the sound of the crashing waves surrounding us, sand squished between our toes, our eyes illuminated by the slowly setting sun, and our wet hands joined together, my three close friends and I pledged to be there for each other through thick and in.

Or how we had phrased it back then: "From beginning to the end."

It's silly, now that I think about it, how that memory felt like such a dream. It always felt so unreal yet so vivid in my mind. My juvenile brain probably exaggerated the memory, but I'm okay with that. It _did_ feel like a magical moment: knowing that I had three people that I could depend my life on.

And it was that moment by the water that shaped how the rest of my days would be like.

* * *

"How about you keep up, Pretty Boy?" Wesley shouted, his husky voice carried by the wind as he pumped his legs faster and faster down the cobbled streets of District 4. He was already around ten steps ahead of us, and his pace only got faster and faster—a feat that I'm sure he wouldn't fail to remind us later along with the teasing of being "sea snails."

Jaxon snorted beside me, keeping up the pace of his moderate jog. "And ruin my hair? No way!"

Though I knew that Jaxon could just as easily catch up with Wesley, I had no doubts that his comment about his hair held more fact than humor.

"Yeah, well, if we keep up with this sad pace, we're going to be late to the Reaping!" I reminded them, trying to run faster to at least match pace with the two boys. _Screw them and their ridiculously long legs._ "And I don't think you'll be able to keep styling your hair if you're in prison, Jaxon."

"If there's a will, there's a way, Zeph," Jaxon said with a mischievous wink. Seeing that wink, an astonished chuckle bubbled from my throat.

"Please. I don't _want_ to know what fluid you're going to use for your hair."

Wesley stumbled a bit ahead of us.

"Ew! Zephyr!"

Our laughter might have slowed us down in our run towards our neighbourhood, making us stop a few times to catch our breath before continuing our struggle, but we didn't care. People must have thought that the three of us were out of our minds. The Reaping is not—and _never will be_ —a day of celebration or joy, so seeing a bunch of kids laughing wildly on the street is _not_ a sight that should exist on this day. Not this day. And I understood that, but at the same time, being able to laugh and, for a moment, _forget_ was better than being drowned in sorrow.

As we neared my house, Wesley swiftly does a sharp turn in the alleyway that lead to the backyard of the house, and Jaxon and I followed. Though they were already running out of time to prepare, the two boys didn't hesitate to run to the giant tree in my backyard and thread their hands together. Without hesitation as well, I ran at them full speed and used their hands to propel myself upwards enough to grab a branch. From there, I climbed the rest of the way up to a branch that led towards a window. _My_ window. Everything was practiced and almost second nature to me. It took only a simple balanced run, jump, and front roll to get into my bedroom from the open window. I quickly stood up and waved at my friends to show that I got in.

"And she sticks the landing!" Jaxon hollered, accompanied by a loud 'whoop' from Wes.

With confidence, I posed by the window with my hands above my head, pretending that I was in the spotlight. Jaxon pretended to throw an invisible rose at me while Wes clapped in amusement. When the sound of a door on the back porch opening reached their ears, the two boys immediately took off, the soles of their shoes pounding on the ground and Jaxon's light laughter being carried by the wind.

"Zephyr!" a sharp voiced pierced the joyous air, making me wince. _Oh, god._ "What did I say about those delinquents anywhere near our house?"

I groaned. Right. _This_ conversation again. I push the window closed. "Mama, they were just walking me home so we wouldn't be late for the Reaping. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get ready."

With hurried steps, I crossed my room to shut the door, perhaps a tiny bit louder than I intended it to. A punishment must be waiting for me for later. Although, attending another Reaping was punishment enough already. _Just one more Reaping after this_ , I reminded myself with a heavy heart and an even heavier exhale.

There was no time to take a shower, so I just slipped a pale blue dress on and ran a brush through my semi-damp messy brown locks. Hopefully, the saltwater wouldn't dry up my hair or make it frizzy by the time it dries. I could just take a shower after the Reaping anyway. A part of me regrets taking a short swim and forgetting the time, but the fun that my friends and I had that morning wasn't going to get dampened by this morning's "festivities." I made sure to wipe the ring on my left ring finger so that it remained sparkly and polished, nostalgia tugging the edges of lips upwards. After slipping on a pair of chunky heels, I booked it down the stairs to grab an apple from the kitchen fruit bowl.

I almost halted in my stride towards the near empty fruit bowl when I saw my mother waiting for me in the kitchen. Her curled and pinned auburn hair was an aesthetic contrast to her immaculate navy dress with white trimmings. It was there, with the sunlight streaming behind her from the kitchen windows, that I was gobsmacked again by how pretty my mother was. From her long, slim legs, clean, manicured nails, string of pearls around her neck, to her lightly painted lips, she looked like the perfect woman. She looked like she belonged in the Capitol. If it only wasn't for the dark bags and wrinkles under her eyes and the scowl on her thin lips.

My mother gave a sniff, a tall glass of dark liquid in her hand. "Honestly, child. Is that the best dress that you have? And your hair! What will the town think when they see you? You look like a _disgrace_. Change at once, Zephyr."

 _Typical._ I'm the one who looks like a disgrace when I wasn't the one drinking in the early morning. I bit my tongue to refrain from voicing my thoughts out.

Seeing myself now in the mirror that hung by the doorway to our kitchen, I could partly understand my mother's distress. Though I did my best to tame my hair with a simple braid that cut across my hair from ear to ear, the braid was subpar at best and baby hairs continued to stick out. My messy look was nowhere near the impeccable styled hair that my mother had. And sure, the dress that I wore was...plain by a large margin compared to her dress.

"I brushed my hair and styled it," I stated, reaching over to grab a tiny apple from the bowl and avoiding her eyes. "This is my first time wearing this dress in public, so by definition it's somewhat new. I'm not going to get reaped, so my face wouldn't be broadcasted to all of Panem, Mama. You have nothing to worry about. They won't...have to see this disgrace."

"Worry? You think I'm _worried?_ I'm fucking _ashamed_ that you think you'll be fine in public looking like that. Do you know how you would make me look?" She sways on her feet. My nails pierce the skin of my palm from holding on too tight. My chest burned with a fire that sought more to destroy than to give me warmth.

But as quick as it was lit, the fire was immediately doused. My shoulders sagged in defeat.

I took in a deep breath, eyeing the glass in her hand. "I'm sorry, Mama. I would change, but I'll be late for the Reaping."

"And you will be too," I continued, steeling myself as I took a few steps towards her. My hand reached for for her glass, being cautious as if handling a crazed animal. And in a moment, her eyes went feral like I had feared. "So...let me just take your glass, and we can both go to the Justice Building toge—"

Before I could even touch the glass, Mama held it out of my reach. The smell of alcohol hit my nose, and for a moment, it made me wonder if the glass that she was holding was even her first for the day. She sneered, "Don't _touch_ my glass. How _dare_ you!"

I jumped back, feeling burned by the venom in her voice. She took a menacing step towards me, and that sent me stumbling back.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I'll...I'll go."

Without waiting for a response, I booked it out of our house. Going against my mother when she's angry is one thing, but going against her when she's angry _and_ drunk is another. Perhaps it would be best to avoid her after the reaping and to wait for her to sleep before I could sneak back into the house. Once I reached the main road, I followed the slow procession past the main markets, the academies, the docks, and towards the gathering at the old Justice Building.

The Justice Building, the tallest building in the square, looked more like a penitentiary than what it should be. In a way, it seemed accurate to what the Justice Building is. Every year, we have to gather to be chosen for "a chance of a lifetime," which sounded more like a punishment for a crime rather than the fame and glory that people from the Capitol are saying it is. Once you're chosen and you enter the building, the chosen are put on death row that's broadcasted to the whole nation.

A tall head of dark, curly hair caught my eye just across the street from the registration table. Wesley picked at the buttoned up collar of his dress shirt that was a color akin to sand, and he gnawed on his chapped lips. His hair looked freshly washed as his curls weren't as crazy as they usually were—very unlike how he was earlier when we ran back home.

"I'm a hundred times impressed that you were able to squeeze in a bath in the little time that we had to get ready," I said, walking towards his spot. I knocked my shoulder with his in greeting. "Or did you have another swim?"

Wesley gave a chuckle and shook his head. "No. I just washed my hair and changed. I don't really want the screens to be overtaken by shots of my hair when the cameras sweep the boys' area. Wish I could say the same for you."

I scowled and punched his shoulder, though the punch probably hurt my hand more than it hurt him. "That's a foul right there, Wesley."

As Wesley laughed and I tried to tame my hair a bit more with my fingers, Jaxon came bounding to our side, looking quite polished and suave in his white button down and slicked back hair. Not a second later did Teo, the fourth to complete our group, calmly walked towards us after speaking a few hushed words to his little sister who went up to the registration table.

Jaxon threw his arm around Teo's shoulders, his eyes narrowed playfully. "Oh, finally! The traitor joins us."

Teo opened his mouth to speak when his eyes zeroed in on my elbow. Or more specifically, on the sand on my elbow.

"Didn't have enough time to bathe, Zephyr?"

"Don't you judge me, traitor," I accused jokingly, poking Teo's side. "You just snuck out on us without telling us the time. I totally could have squeezed in a bath if you just told us that we had to leave."

"Yeah, thanks for leaving us at the beach, Teo," Wesley added sarcastically, crossing his muscled arms over his chest.

Teo gave a heavy signed and rolled his eyes. His slender fingers picked up Jaxon's hand on his shoulder and brushed it away, acting as if he was touching something vile. "I didn't leave you at the beachwithout warning _._ I told Jax that it was nearing the time for the Reaping, and if I remember correctly, _he_ was the one who told me to 'get the driftwood out' of my ass. So if anyone's to blame for tardiness—"

Jaxon starts waving his arms, a nervous laugh escaping from his lips. "Okay! We should probably go register..."

"Jaxon," I said in warning, my eyes narrowing at the _real_ culprit to it all.

"Toodles, babes," he calls out before turning to sprint towards the registration tables at the front of the building. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Of _course_ it was Jax.

"Not so fast, traitor!" Wesley called out, running after Jaxon. It wasn't a problem for Wesley as he easily caught up to Jaxon with his long legs and multitude morning runs. He dragged a kicking and squirming Jaxon back to where Teo and I stood, our arms crossed and looks composed as if a tribunal ready to serve some justice.

Teo stepped forward, and though he was shorter than Jaxon and Wesley, his squared shoulders and impassive look could easily intimidate anyone. Wesley held Jaxon against his chest, his bulky arms wrapped around Jaxon's lean torso and arms to trap him there, mirth dancing in his brown eyes.

"Jaxon Destan, you have falsely accused Teo Pierce and attempted escape which is punishable in this court of law." I pointed an accusing finger towards him, trying to stop my lips from quirking into a smile. "And the court finds you...guilty."

With a satisfying _'thwick'_ , Teo had flicked Jaxon's forehead, resulting in a groan from the punished party and a snort of laughter from Wesley.

"You're all dicks," Jaxon moaned, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead after being released by Wesley. His pout, very short-lived, quickly turned into a smirk. "But damn, Teo. What else can your fingers do?"

Teo's face of amusement quickly turned into an irritated scowl. He made a threatening step towards Jaxon but was quickly intercepted by Wesley.

"Come on, you guys," he started, his shoulders still shaking in his barely contained laughter. "We have to go before we really are late. Ready?"

He thrust out his hand towards the space in the middle of our circle. Wesley's eyes looked at each of us, his mouth slowly losing its joyous curve. Without hesitation, Wesley, Teo, and I placed our hands of top of his. The warmth emanating from the simple act was enough to make me feel a slither of comfort.

"From the beginning until the end," Wesley murmured.

I echoed, looking at each of my best friends, "From the beginning until the end."

"From the beginning until the end," Jaxon repeated, the mirth gone from his dark eyes as well.

Teo was the last to say it after a deep breath. "From the beginning until the end."

The slither of comfort turned into a tidal wave that washed away the bitter fear in throat. Sixth year of doing this weird tradition and it never failed to make me feel safe.

Teo was the first to leave the circle, huffing the reminder that the reaping waits for no one, and Wesley followed. I walked with Jaxon by my side, taking our own time to cross the street to the booths. Now that we were going our separate ways—or at least I'm going to a separated area—I couldn't help but scratch at my arm to chase away the nerves.

"Hey, Jax. Can I...Can I sleep over at your house tonight?"

Jax turned to me with a raised brow. "Of course you can, but...what's the occasion?"

I nibbled on my lip before answering, "Nothing. I just...wanted to sleep over."

And I could tell by the look on Jaxon' face that he didn't believe me. However, he didn't prod and opted to give my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and a nod. Jaxon must have understood already the circumstances and the reason behind the sudden question. That alone released a bit of tension that made my stomach tie itself into knots.

The registration was a quick process, one that I was already so familiar with that the drawing of blood didn't make me nauseous as it once did when I first entered the Reaping. After being registered, I was quickly ushered into the roped-off group of girls in my age range. When everyone started settling down, Valentina Fritt, the District 4 escort, walked onto the stage, her striking blonde wig piled high on her head. Jaxon once joked that it probably where she stashes her ego. Hence why it's so big. For this year, she went for a sea-inspired look with a shimmery blue dress and fake decorative sea creatures littering her hair and accessories. A giant starfish was stuck on her chest, which looked like a target more than a fashionable addition. Her blue painted lips, a complete contrast to her painted white skin, stretched into a wide smile as she stopped in front of the microphone. Behind her, the representatives of the district lined up by their chairs.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she greeted with sugar sweet enthusiasm. I could already feel my teeth and my brain rotting. "And may the odds be ever in your favour."

Judging by the deadpan expressions of the girls around me, I knew that we were all thinking the same thing. The odds will _never be_ in our favour. Not while we were at the mercy of our age and these games. Sure, there were some who liked these games—would give _anything_ to participate in these games, but I knew better. There was only a fifty-fifty chance in these games for all of us. Either bring home "pride" for your district, or let the Capitol bring home your casket.

The silence didn't deter the ecstatic Valentina who was clapping by herself. She cleared her throat, "But before we start with the selection, a special treat from our beloved president."

The giant screens went black before the yearly reaping day film was played. After watching it for five years already, it was easy to block out the words and the images that brought to life nightmares after the first Reaping that I witnessed. War, famine, youth, uprising, rebel, nothing, peace, treason, fight, sacrifices, forgiveness, our future.

What bullshit.

My gaze went to Jaxon, Teo, and Wes' place in their group. Jaxon had this look on his face that I always understood as him perpetually rolling his eyes in his mind. Teo had his head cocked to the side in thought.

"Don't you just feel goose bumps at the end?" our escort addressed the crowd, her dark brown eyes alight with admiration. "Now, let's start with the ladies!"

Valentina walked to the glass bowl on her left, her sky high heels clicking on the stage. She made a show of twirling her hand and waiting with baited breath to snatch a small piece of paper. The girls in front of me started linking hands, squeezing tightly as if in the deepest prayer. I felt the girl to my left tap the back of my hand gently before offering hers. Her lips shook with the heavy breath that she took in. When I offered mine, she grabbed onto it tightly. Though it was sweaty and cold, her hand in mine was comforting. I offered my hand to the girl to my right, and she immediately took it.

Just one more Reaping after this. And then?

 _Freedom._

"Zephyr Loire!"

A scream pierced through the tense air—whether or not it was mine, I couldn't pinpoint. Immediately, the girls next to me let go of my hand, as if burned. As if my touch could doom them to the same terrible fate that a piece of paper had thrust upon me. And maybe it could. Pity, fear, and relief were mixed in their faces, and my chest burned with anger.

Or maybe it was fear.

Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was heartburn. Maybe it was shame. I had no time to process it as Valentina called out my name again in this sing-song way like children would when trying to find their friends at hide and seek. Swallowing thickly, I moved towards the aisle with heavy steps. It felt like my hands and feet were dunked in ice water, slowly growing numb. Peacekeepers surrounded me once I reached the aisle to make sure that the chosen tribute wouldn't run—not like anyone has in District 4.

My eyes tried to find my friends again in their line, but the officers behind me were already pushing me to the front. My vision blurred for a moment. I had to find them. I had to say goodbye. I couldn't leave. I couldn't die. We had so many plans. We had a future. We had a plan.

 _I am going to die._

I swallowed thickly again, trying to regain control of my erratic breathing. As I walked up the stairs, Valentina offered me her hand which I gladly took, fearing that without guidance I'll fall on my face or fall off the stage. She clapped me on the back with little force, but even from that, I almost stumbled to the edge of the stage.

There, I could see everyone's faces again, but that only made the fire in my chest burn hotter. The girls were _relieved_. They weren't going to be the one to die in some awful game. They weren't going to be used for entertainment. They weren't going to be stripped down to their weakest point. They weren't going to be cut open or mangled for the whole nation to see. They weren't _me._

At last, I could make out the faces of my three best friends from the crowd—their horrified faces. Teo was white as a sheet. Jaxon had his head bowed but shaking vehemently from side to side. Wesley had his eyes squeezed shut, his body shaking. They were going to lose a friend. For a second, I was comforted with the thought that there would be at least three people who would mourn me and miss me. But that second was gone, and all I could feel again was dread.

My mother, the familiar auburn head that I could see at the back of the crowd, took a long swig from her flask. She must be glad to be rid of me.

And then, for a moment, though I swore to myself that I would never ever go down this line of thought, I had the screaming thought: How would Papa react to all of this? Would he care?

Of course he would. What was I thinking?

"And now, for the boys!"

I ripped my gaze away from my mother and looked towards Valentina. It was now time for the next body in the casket that the Capitol will return. I only prayed that whoever would be picked would at least be competent enough to win this so the district wouldn't have two disappointments.

Again, Valentina took her sweet time trying to make the Reaping dramatic. All I wanted to do was to tell her to choose faster. We didn't need this to be more of a show than it already was.

Our escort cleared her throat before reading her pick. "Let's welcome our male tribute: Wesley St. James!"

 _No._

Wesley's eyes snapped open, and his mouth went slack. Jaxon's shoulders slumped and started shaking as tears ran down his cheeks.

No.

Teo held on to Wesley's wrist with a strong grip when the taller boy passed. Wesley shook his head and whispered something that prompted Teo to let go. From Teo's expression, I could tell that he didn't want to do it.

No.

Wesley walked with the Peacekeepers down the aisle, his shoulders squared and his body tensed.

No.

He meets my eyes as he climbs up the stairs, and the fear in his eyes lodged a burning sob in my throat. Wesley still looked put together compared to what I feel like I look at that moment. The shakiness was gone from his stance, but his eyes...

His eyes were hardened mahogany muddied by a flurry of emotions. And I understood him. Determination fuelled by anger. Anger fuelled by fear. Fear fuelled by the realization that one of us has to die.

Only one of us gets to go home. Or maybe even neither of us at all.

"Our tributes!" Valentina called out, wrapping her long arms around our shoulders. "Shake hands now, dears."

I took in a deep breath and rushed towards Wesley, wrapping my arms around his middle. Fuck the handshake. Fuck whatever kind of social convention that we had to abide by for this reaping. Fuck...Fuck it all. Immediately, I felt strong arms wrapping around my shoulders, and I could smell the familiar scent of mild soap and salty water.

"It's gonna be okay, Zeph," Wesley whispered next to my ear, squeezing me tightly as if he was trying to hold me together. Like I was falling apart. And maybe I was. "We're going to figure something out."

He didn't let go until I've nodded. However, he still held on to my hand as we faced the crowd once more. This time, I stared straight ahead, past the buildings in the square and towards the horizon and the sea. The sea glittered in the morning sun, winking and calling out for me to run and jump into its calm embrace. It'll be the last time I'll ever get to see the beautiful water. The thought made my chest burn once again and made me squeeze Wesley's hand even tighter.

Valentina went towards the microphone once more, a bright smile on her blue-painted lips. She threw her hands up glee. "Happy Hunger Games, District 4! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

The last thing that I saw before I was ushered inside the Justice Building was the back of my mother's head as she walked away from the square.

* * *

When I finally left alone in a room, I felt it all crashing down on me. I wasn't going to come back home. I was going to have to battle with my best friend. I was expected to kill. I was expected to act like it wouldn't bother me. I was expected to put on a show. I was expected to die.

 _I am going to die._

My legs felt weak, and that prompted me to sink down on a nearby chair as my breathing became more laboured. Why was I picked? I only had one more Reaping before I could live my life. I only had six slips of paper with my name on it. I never took a tesserae. We never needed it. Now...the only hope that I have of a future was ripped from my hands the same way I am being ripped away from my home. Or probably the same way another tribute would rip into me.

The door creaked open, and for a moment, I felt a gust of relief. But that went away quickly when, instead of carefully pinned auburn hair, I was greeted by a head of short, wavy, dark brown locks.

"Katja," I gasped, rising from my seat. From behind her, I could see the rest of Wesley's family entering the room he was in. I opened my mouth to say something— _anything—_ but what exactly do you say to the older sister of a fellow tribute? One that you were expected to hunt down?

Katja shifted on her feet, her hands fisting the pretty skirt of her floral dress. "Hi. I uh...I wanted to talk...to you."

Gnawing on my lip, I nodded for her to continue. She took a few heavy steps towards me, and her eyes went from me to the floor. What a difference a day made, I thought. I always envied Katja's strength and confidence. She was the type of girl that just went for anything that her heart desired with her head held high and determination in her steps. Screw the obstacles ahead. As long as she put her mind to it, she was going to get and achieve what she wanted. However, now, the woman before her seemed so unsure of herself: so unlike who Katja was in my eyes.

"I...I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes squeezing shut. She looked so much younger than her actual age. "You don't deserve...any of this."

At a loss for words, I just nodded again and pulled her in for a hug. We were never that close—at least not in the same way that Wesley and I were—but she was always there when I needed advice on things that I couldn't ask any of my friends about. She made sure to protect us when we were in deep trouble.

But then she pushed me away.

Though not unkindly, she held me at arms length and shook her head. When she met my eyes, I saw her strength coming back. The determination was back. Should I have felt relief?

"I...I have a favour to ask of you." Her fingers tighten on my forearms, almost to the point that her fingernails were beginning to hurt my skin.

"Of course, Katja. Anything."

"I know that Wesley...Wesley cares a lot about you, and you know how much Wesley can be a bleeding heart."

I nodded in understanding. "Bleeding heart" was a bit of an understatement.

"And I know that you would do anything to keep you safe, but I also know that Wesley would do the same to you...to the point that he would give up his life." She sucked in a breath as her eyes started watering. "Please. _Please_ don't let him die. I know that he'll listen to you, so please make him promise that he'll do whatever it takes to win. Don't make him give up his life. Please...let him come home."

That felt like a punch to my gut, and I had to remind myself to breathe when I realized I had stopped. My eyes burned with the hurt that consumed me. _She's asking me to die to let her brother live._ A tiny part of me wishes that I had someone who would plead for me like this, and the fact that she would do this for Wesley -

"Katja..."

Wesley's sister bowed her head. "I know. I know I sound so selfish. I just...We can't lose him, Zephyr. I don't..."

The door slammed open and Peacekeeper walked, heading straight for Katja. "It's time for you to go."

Katja gave a shaky nod. She sent me a pleading look before leaving the room. Once the door closed, I took shuddering breaths and squeezed my eyes tight, trying to push back the tears and Katja's words to the back of my mind.

There was a commotion outside, shouting and a few thuds before the door opened and my two friends came stumbling in. Jaxon turned back and grabbed the door before it closed.

"We're the only people that who are close to being her family, okay buddy. So simmer down and just let us be!" He slammed the door shut with a huff.

Teo came first and crashed into me, wrapping his arms around for a tight hug. I let out a huge breath when I felt the warmth and comfort from the gesture. My body almost caved in and melted into the hug, craving that solace so much. This felt miles different from the momentary hug that I had with Katja. This one was just full of warmth, and it didn't feel like hugging a wall.

But the warmth didn't last long.

Soon, there was a hand that separated me from my quiet friend. A whine almost left my throat. Jaxon came into view and he pulled me in for a bone crushing hug. It felt so desperate and vulnerable. My throat was so constricted, and I was scared that I would start crying. Oh, Jaxon...

"Look, Mama don't play no favorites, okay?" he croaked, his voice almost muffled by how much he was burrowing into my shoulder. I could feel his lithe frame shaking in my arms. Out of sadness or anger, I couldn't tell. "I'm going to tell you the same thing that I'm going to tell Wes. I don't care what it takes, okay. Do whatever it is that you have to do. Don't let anyone touch a single fucking hair on your head, or I'm going to release hell and its warriors."

He pulled away and held me at arms length, his eyes red-rimmed.

"I'm not choosing between the two of you. _We're_ not choosing between the two of you. We can take mourning for one friend, but I'll be _fucking damned_ if we lose both of you. _Win_ this. Win it and come back. We'll figure out the rest after that. _Togethe_ r."

A hiccup bubbled through the wails and sobs that had died on my tongue. The earlier burn in my chest was slowly dissipating like a tide pulling away from the shore. What did I do to deserve friends like this?

Steeling himself, he sandwiched my face in his hands and held my gaze. The raw desperation in his eyes hit me once again. _He's scared that I'm going to die._ "Fucking promise me you'll do whatever it takes to win, Zephyr!"

"I..."

I didn't want to lie. I did want to go home and go back to how it was, but that did mean winning. And winning meant possibly killing Wesley. Or going home without Wesley. Or grieving for Wesley. Or losing everything. Why would I want to promise that? Would Wesley make the same promise to Jaxon? Would he do whatever it would take to win? Even if it meant killing me?

But I can understood the desperation with Jaxon. There was that overwhelming fear that he would face another casket.

"I'll..." My lips felt dry as I swiped my tongue across it. It's a lie, but saying it hopefully could become the truth. I wanted to comfort him so badly. "I can only promise to try, Jaxon. You know...what winning means."

Jaxon bit his lip, hesitant, but he nodded nonetheless. He ran a hand through his hair before moving over to the side to let Teo have a turn for his final words.

He comes forward, his compact frame wrapping around mine gently. "Remember, you're a child of the sea, Zephyr. Still waters can hide roaring whirlpools and powerful undercurrents. Be strong. Be bold."

Teo pulls away, and the sight of the amount of sorrow in his eyes came like a punch to the gut. "And then come back to us."

"Thanks, Teo," I whispered sincerely, giving him a final squeeze.

 _Final._

It sounded so wrong, but I know that might be how it would play out.

"Listen, about your token," Jaxon started, gnawing on his dried out lips. "I know your mom can't..."

Tears built up in the corners of my eyes, but I tried my best to keep it all in. "What are you talking about? I have my token right here."

I raised my hand to show the glittering ring proudly. Jaxon let out a shuddering breath, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks once more. He grabbed my hand gently and touched my knuckles to his forehead—the ultimate sign of respect, love, and loyalty in our district. I could feel the cold sweat that had formed on his forehead, but his hand remained steady as he clutched mine. And when he moved away, Teo held my hand as well and did the same gesture.

The door opened once more, and a Peacekeeper glared specifically at Jaxon. "Time's up. Now get out of the room."

"All right. All right," Jaxon said, waving it off and trying to hide his tears. His shoulders became tense, and any sign of desperation and sorrow was gone from his eyes. All that was left was rage. For a moment, I wanted to scold him in fear that he would be handed a punishment by the Peacekeeper for talking back, but Teo was already fast enough to grab his arm to stop him from talking some more.

"Thank you." Teo tightened his grip on Jaxon's arm when the cocky teen was going to speak once more. "We'll just say our goodbye as well to the other tribute, sir."

The Peacekeeper scowled, and I feared that their request would be declined. Still, Teo held the officer's gaze, not asserting authority but not backing down either.

The officer's gaze narrowed. "Relationship with the male tribute?"

"Best fri-"

"Family friend," Teo interjected, shooting a warning look at Jaxon. "The rules state that loved ones can visit. This includes close family friends."

I could tell that the "no" still lingered in the air, but Teo was correct in pointing out the rules. The Peacekeeper nodded, his jaw tense. "Make it quick."

Teo nodded and followed the Peacekeeper out. Jaxon reached out and squeezed my shoulder before leaving the room. When the door closed, my legs finally gave out, and I was faced with deafening silence.

And in that silence, i found enough comfort to cry.

* * *

The train was unlike anything I've ever seen before. Of course, immigrating to other districts was strictly forbidden, but there were times where the wealthiest of the district would travel for visits or the district representatives would have to go to meetings in the Capitol. However, even coming close to a train would be something I didn't think would ever happen to me. I just wished that it would be different reasons—for both me and Wesley.

And the inside of the train?

 _Magnificent._

Glass chandeliers, exquisitely upholstered furniture, polished silverware, and bright, flagrant flowers—the train is definitely more luxurious than any of the houses of the wealthiest citizens in our district. It was crazy. I was afraid that my shoes would track in dirt or sand on the polished floors and someone would yell at me for it. Everything just looked so pristine.

Wesley sat to my right at the dark wooden dining table, his incessant foot tapping the only thing keeping me grounded at a time like this. His dark eyes were slightly red, hilariously matching mine. When we saw each other while being led to the car that would take us to the train,

Wesley's lips were almost breaking into a smile because he knew that we both looked ridiculous. That alone made me feel infinitely better, seeing that Wesley's humor had not changed.

"I'm not going to kill you." Wesley whispered, turning his head to look me dead in the eyes. His eyes were still red-rimmed. "I'm not."

"Wes, I—"

The carriage door opened with a 'whoosh' and Valentina came teetering in, a tall well-built male and an elderly female with a cane following behind her. I recognized the male immediately. Finnick Odair. His face wasn't one that could be easily forgotten. Ever since he entered the 65th Hunger Games, his popularity sky-rocketed. Heck, even before the Hunger Games, he was popular in the district with his good looks and beguiling smile. Now, he's a beloved tribute that many men and women want and District 4 tributes want to be. The Careers training to be tributes probably felt like they could never surpass Finnick. And maybe they never would.

Now the elderly lady, I think she was a past victor as well, but I couldn't imagine such a sweet looking woman such as herself to be in the games—much less win them. Her eyes twinkled with wisdom and gentleness that only years of seeing horrors can bestow, and her gray-white hair surrounded her face like light from a halo. That was completely different from how other victors left the Games.

Valentina gestured for us to stand up, looking like she was going to burst at the seams with giddiness. "Here you are, you two! These are your mentors: Finnick Odair and Mags Flanagan!"

Wesley and I shot up from our seats, and Wesley didn't waste any time to politely extend his hand towards Finnick.

"Wesley St. James," he introduced himself with a hesitant nod.

I, in turn, reached my hand towards Mags for a handshake. Mags gave me a warm smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. "Zephyr Loire."

"Isn't it fantastic?" Valentina asked in glee as Wesley reached over to shake Mags' hand as well. "It looks like we have good tributes for this year!"

 _I'm not so sure about that_ , I thought with a blank expression, extending my hand towards Finnick this time. When he took my hand, he flipped it in his grasp so that he could bring my knuckles to his lips. What the absolute fresh hell?

Wesley's laugh caught my attention, and when I turned towards him, he was desperately trying to muffle his laughter with his hand. I slipped my hand out of Finnick's hold. Mags' shoulders were shaking with laughter as well.

"What?" I asked, my nose scrunching in confusion.

Finnick laughed in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. "Tell me how you really feel, Zephyr."

What?

"You did this face, Zeph." Wesley scrunched his whole face in disgust for a moment, as if he had sucked a lemon, before he relaxed and laughed once more.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"I am so sorry!" I said, whipping my head towards Finnick's direction. "I wasn't trying to be disrespectful! I just...you were kissing my hand, and I wasn't really prepared for it. I guess I don't really like it—not like I'm saying that, uhm, I don't like you! I just don't..."

Finnick raised a brow, but I couldn't tell if he was daring me to continue or if he was amused with how much I was making a fool of myself. Wesley laughing so hard that he started snorting behind me was no help either. I gave him a hard jab with my elbow, but that only made him laugh harder. Perhaps the idea that at least one of us was going to die is slowly driving him mad as well, but his solution was humor.

Apologies were teetering on the tip of my tongue. However, I held back and bit it. There was no need to dig myself deeper into a hole or embarrass myself further. Especially not in front of the people who could possibly keep me and Wesley alive.

"I'll just shut up now. I'm sorry."

Finnick chuckled in amusement, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, at least now I know you've got some attitude hidden in your gills. And I like a girl with attitude."

He gave me a cheeky wink.

Heat crept under the skin of my cheeks at the wink, but it was more out of embarrassment than swooning. I think. Damn it. How can Finnick Odair just sweat charm?

Mags, bless her heart, came over to whack the back of Finnick's head, her eyes shinning with mirth. "Stop teasing her, Finnick."

Our mentor stuck out his lips in a pout like a child scolded by their parent. "I wasn't teasing. I really do like a girl with an attitude."

Mags only gave him an eye roll. I caught Wesley's eye before we both burst into a chuckle.

"So...you two know each other?" Finnick asked, looking between me and my fellow tribute.

The question caught me off-guard. I gnawed on my lip and nodded. Turning to Wesley, I was about to state that we were friends, but he had already beat me to it.

"We're best friends."

There was a sudden pause in the room. It was quick, maybe it didn't even happen, but I felt it. It felt like the room sucked in a deep breath. I caught the look of pity that flashed through Mag's dark eyes.

"Well, this is going to be interesting Hunger Games," Finnick said, trying to make it sound light, but the weight of the thought behind the words made everything feel tense. He knows. He's probably thinking of it too.

The probability of the two of us coming home was zero. The probability of one of us winning was slim. The probability of the either one of us killing each other was unclear. The probability of one of us dying for the other was...problematic.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of A Siren Song! To be honest, I wasn't that into The Hunger Games and Cato, but after reading stories here and going through The Hunger Games again, I decided to throw my hat in the ring. I loved writing this concept, and I have a new twists and turns in mind for the story.**_

 _ **I would really appreciate reviews, and if you leave any, I will reply to them in the next chapter! Do you like the characters? What are your predictions for the future chapters? Do you have any questions for the story? Hit me up!**_


	2. 2: My Jolly Sailor Bold

Words became a big part of my life after I've met Teo. When we were around ten, he asked me what my favorite words were. The whole concept threw me off as a ten year-old. If anyone asked me what my favorite color and favorite food were, I would have no hesitation in answering a simple question: white and fire roasted fish, of course. But how can someone have a favorite word?

I didn't understand it then, but I've come to realize that choosing a favorite word said a lot about a person just like their favorite color and food did.

Teo's favorite word then was "celestial." My childish brain couldn't even process what the hell that word meant or, more importantly, how he had come to know that word. We asked Jaxon, and after a solid minute of thinking, he answered, "crash." Wesley found it easier to think of his favorite word and settled with "hello."

Frustrated at being the only one without a favorite, I marched off to the nearest library and skimmed through approved dictionaries and books. Then, I've settled on "control" because I've realized back then that it was something that I wish I had—even in favorite form.

Of course, as the years went by, our preferences and favorites have changed. Teo went on to choose more difficult words, and so did Jaxon. Although, Wesley still preferred "hello." Or at least I think he still did.

Mine changed as well. I think now, I prefer "sylph." Sylph meant a lot of things, but I liked the one about a slender and graceful woman or being that is connected to air. I thought that was what my mother wanted me to be when she named me Zephyr after the god of the west wind.

Finnick had told us that it would be wise to wait until the end of the Reaping Day Recap to plan out our strategy. When I saw the footage captured from the reaping in our district, I didn't see grace or gentleness that I thought would come with my name. All I could see was fear. Raw, paralyzing fear. Compared to Wesley, and even most of the chosen tributes shown on the Reaping Day Recap, I looked like one of the weakest. I looked like the first one to die.

All I could think was _"Wow. Mom was right. I look like a disgrace."_

District One had two volunteer tributes and so did District Two. I couldn't wrap my head around the looks on their faces. They all looked so _happy_ , so stoked to be on stage. There was confidence and a certain kind of...hunger, I guess. Especially that District Two male. There was a certain gleam in his eyes that made me wonder whether he already decided on a desired body count in mind. His wide, ravenous smile told me that he already did.

The rest of the tributes were in the same boat as I was, and the anger and fear came back tenfold. Some of them were so young. Some of them screamed, cried out. A girl who looks barely thirteen from District Eight, a boy with a slight limp, a boy who looked skinny enough to be carried by the wind, a little girl being dragged onto the stage by Peacekeepers. Some sick people probably found amusement in those, and it made me feel angry.

And then came the Reaping from District Twelve. Just when another young girl was picked, a dark haired older girl volunteered herself. Katniss Everdeen. She volunteered for her younger sister, and though I could see the fear settling in her eyes when she stepped on the stage, her frail form never shook or waivered. I wish I could be as strong and brave as her. But would her sacrifice be worth it if she comes back in a casket? I wished for a quick death for her if it came to that.

"That was so kind," Wesley had remarked with awe, and I wondered for a moment if he would do the same if his little brother, Wyatt, was in the same boat. None of the other tributes' siblings have done so—at least that what it looked like.

Finnick cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowed in either confusion or contemplation. "It's getting more interesting, this year's Hunger Games."

Valentina turned off the television and whisked us away to the dining cart for dinner—which Finnick dubbed as a meeting for war strategy. _War_. The word bounced off the walls in my mind. For some reason, I found it…interesting that he would word it that way.

The aroma from the freshly cooked meat, fish, and veggies made my mouth water. The dishes that were brought out were nothing like I've ever seen or tasted. I mean, violet soup? Fruits that glistened and shaped like jewels? So much color, texture, and depth.

But even with the intriguing spread of dishes, once Finnick started talking about survival in the arena, I found it harder and harder to swallow the food. Eventually, it devolved into picking at my meal little by little. Because even though the food tasted fresh and absolutely amazing, the taste of fear and dread was bitter on my tongue.

"So, what are your strengths?" Finnick asked, sipping from his water glass casually, as if he was asking how our day was.

It took a bit of willpower not to spear the beet on my plate with force. I looked at Wesley at the corner of my eyes, and for a moment, our eyes met. _You first._ His lips quirked into a reassuring smile as he turned towards our mentors.

Wesley replied, "I'm all right with a spear and trident. Decent with blades. I've worked for small fishing boats for a few years now, and I've been...working on my stamina and muscle for a while now. I'm not exactly a fighter or anything but..."

True enough, Wesley was a big guy. Although, he wasn't as big as the male from District 2, who looked like he could step on me like a bug, or the male from District 11, who could probably break me in two like a toothpick. Still, all of those years going on morning runs on the sand, hours of swimming, and heavy lifting sacks of caught fish did some good to him.

"But your strengths and physique would be enough to stay alive in the arena," Finnick finished with an approving nod. I could already see the gears turning in his head. Wesley's chances of winning are high. A bit of training would make him a force to be reckoned with.

Finnick eyed Wesley's tall and broad figure. "Trained to be a Career?"

"No," Wesley said with a snort. He pushed at the salad on his plate. "I just...wanted to take good care of myself."

I peered at Wesley from the corners of my eyes, catching the quick flash of emotion through his eyes. I still remember the very first time that he insisted that we start jogging in the morning on the way to school. He couldn't even catch up back then, and his stamina was terrible. He looked like he was about to pass out every day that we arrived at our desks to learn back when we were ten.

"That's great! We can definitely pull a strong people person angle on you." Finnick then turned to me, and I felt my stomach drop. "What about you, Zephyr?"

Valentina and Mags turned to me in anticipation. If Wesley was that conscious on his body and strength, then shouldn't I be as well seeing as we were friends? My fingers curled into my palm. Oh boy. Here comes the disappointment.

In a low voice, I answered, "I mean...I went to the academy as well for the basics, but...I'm not really good at fishing. I'm so-so at knot tying, but I'm bad at making hooks. I'm also not the most athletic person, but I can run decent."

I gave a low sigh. Better to say it outright than to make me seem any weaker. "What I'm basically saying is that I don't really have a strength. At least, nothing that could work in my favor in these games. I won't be a strong candidate."

"That's not true!"

I jumped a bit at Wesley's outburst, eyes wide. His eyes were locked on me as his lips pressed into a hard line.

"Yes, it is," I insisted, my forehead creasing with slight annoyance. "Wes, I'm not strong enough to survive in the arena."

"Zephyr—"

Wesley gave a huff, his brown eyes hardening. He turned towards Finnick, who looked a bit lost at the situation. "Zephyr's agile and flexible. She has good balance too. I've seen her run on railings on boats, climb up ropes and trees easily, tightrope...upper body strength! She has upper body strength. Good swimmer and diver as well. Surely...surely some of those skills could be translatable in the games?"

I sighed, pushing my plate away noisily. "Why don't you tell them that I went to etiquette training as well for a few years instead of taking academy training, hmm? Let me just intimidate the other tributes with my perfect posture or my vast knowledge of Capitol-style table setting. I could probably lull them into a false sense of security with my recital of Capitol-approved literature before I strike. Those don't really help much when a tribute's going to come after me with a battle axe."

"Hmm, I'm thinking more of a tea party surprise attack, kiddo _But_ those skills that Wesley has pointed out can still help you survive," Finnick intervened calmly. A warm, papery hand reached across the dark wooden table and grasped mine gently. When I looked up, Mags gave me a warm smile while patting my hand. "There's more to surviving the Hunger Games than just killing. It's not just a battle of physical strength. _Both of you_ remember that."

My hand felt clammy under Mag's as I hung my head. As much as I wanted to believe in Finnick's words, I just couldn't. What good can balance do in the arena? How does that help me survive? It wouldn't, and none of this matters anyway. I already knew that I'm not the one who's going to bring pride to my district. I'm not the one that needs to go home. I'm sure that Finnick and Mags are going to try their hardest to train both of us because District 4 hasn't had the chance to have another victor for years now. Past tributes were close, but never close enough.

"What angle are we going to use with Zephyr, then?" Valentina chirped, somewhat oblivious to the tense atmosphere at the table.

"Why do we need angles?" I asked, my brows knitting in confusion and at the sudden intrusion. However, I was somewhat thankful for her timing.

Valentina gave me a wide, almost hungry smile. She must have been waiting for someone to talk to finally talk to her, the sea cow. "Well, deary, sponsors love a good story and unique characters in the games! Once you differentiate yourself from the pack and wow them with your charisma, they'll be eating of your hand!"

Oh, so Wesley and I were just a bunch of characters in a wacky story and not some scared teens? Peachy.

Something warm pressed against my back, and it took a moment for me to recognize that it was Wesley's hand. I could tell from the look in his eyes that he understood; he was thinking the same thing. Neither of us were simply characters, and none of this fight to our death was a story. The fact that someone said this out loud shocked and angered me. My chest burned. Hopefully it's just heartburn.

"Valentina, you have such a way with words," Finnick exclaimed with an exasperated eye roll. A chuckle left Wesley's lips at the dramatic tone that our mentor had taken. "They're kids, _deary_ , not fairytale characters."

Valentina huffed and stuck out her blue-painted bottom lip in a pout. In harsh light of the carriage, she looked like a drowned, bloated corpse pulled out from the sea.

"And if we were, I think I know who the wicked witch would be," I mumbled, earning a choked snort from Wesley.

"An angle is how we will present you to the Capitol," Mags explained with an understanding smile. Her voice gave me a small shock at how soft, quiet, and frail it was. "It's a way to grab the sponsors' attention and make an impression."

Finnick nodded. "And sponsors are your ticket to winning the game, kiddos. They're the answer to all of your problems."

" _Most_ of the problems," Mags mumbled, shaking her head.

"How can sponsors help us win?" Wesley asked in interest, placing his fork down beside his emptied plate.

Finnick gave a smile, appreciative of the question. However, it only lasted for a second before his face turned serious. "When you're on the brink of death from starvation, sponsors can send you bread or food. When you're freezing, sponsors can get you a blanket or some heating pads. When you're in the middle of a desert, they can send you water. I won...through a generous sponsor providing me a good, sturdy trident. Getting the sponsor's affection can mean life or death for you."

I remembered that moment a little bit. It was nearing The Feast and there were only a handful of tributes left in the arena. I could remember the deafening roar in the plaza right in front of the Justice Building when a heavy duty box was transported in front of Finnick Odair. Mama was screaming along with the crowd. A golden trident for the golden son of District 4. When he saw it, it was like the exhaustion was washed away from his face. There was blood. So much blood. His eyes gleamed brighter than his bloodstained weapon as he was announced the winner of the Hunger Games.

I remembered crying because everything was so loud and everyone was so happy.

"Perhaps we can figure out Zephyr's angle after a good night's sleep!" Valentina suggested with a wide smile, clapping her gloved hands together. I almost jumped from the sharp sound. "Off to bed now, kids!"

* * *

" _Jaxon, I'm so sorry."_

 _Sobs muffled behind a door. A crash. Raised voices. Black. Lots of black and withered flowers._

" _Leave me alone."_

 _The water was cold and sand squished between my toes as three of us ran after a hysterical Jaxon. Wind whipped our hair. Teo was the first to reach Jaxon and grabbed his arm._

" _You don't know what it feels like because you have_ _ **no one**_ _! No siblings! You're mother even left your sorry ass! And you don't have a fucking heart!"_

" _Jax, please. That's not the way to talk to one of your friends," Wesley shouted, his eyes filling up with tears as he ran towards the two._

 _The sky was slowly turning dark. I skid to a halt a distance away from the group and the water and pleaded, "Can we all please calm down and head inside? Please?"_

" _You too!" Jaxon pointed an accusing finger at me. His eyes were livid and red-rimmed. "You think you can say that you understand because your dad died, but_ _ **your dad**_ _didn't promise that he'd come back now did he? Face it! He left you and your mother because your mother's a conniving drunkard. And don't get me started on Wesle-"_

" _You brat!" Teo roared, and the ground shook with his anger. He grabbed fistfuls of Jaxon's shirt in his hands. A flash of lightning lit up the darkened sky. The crash of thunder. "We won't judge you! We know you're suffering, but you don't have to do that alone! You said it yourself! We all went through something so we know somewhat how it feels or we could at least listen to you!"_

 _Jaxon let out a guttural shout and pushed Teo to the ground. Wesley was quick to get in between the fight brewing between Teo and Jaxon. The three wrestled on the ground._

" _Let!" Teo landed a punch at Jaxon's jaw._

" _Teo! Stop!" Wesley made a wild gab for Jaxon to pull the injured away from Teo. Enraged by the hit, Jaxon elbowed Wesley off and lunged at his attacker._

 _Teo threw another punch. "Us!"_

" _Jax, let go of him!" I screamed against the win, scrambling towards Wesley to help him up._

" _Help!"_

" _Teo! Leave him alone!" I screamed, my voice going hoarse. It felt like rocks were scratching together inside my throat. The water lapped violently at my ankles. Giant waves were rolling in, and I could feel the cold nails of fear dragging down my spine._

 _Jaxon's breathing was labored and his hair stuck to damp forehead. His eyes were manic as he and Teo continued to grab and hit each other. When I took a tentative step towards the quarrelling two, Wesley grabbed my arm with his free hand to pull me back and croaked out a pained "no."_

 _The two landed hits on one another, struggling and wrestling on the ground. A rumbling in the ground made both Wesley and I lose our footing, the two of us crashing to sand and shallow water as well. Something big was coming from the horizon._

 _The fight lasted for a while, as the ground rumbled and the roar of the wind deafened our screams. When they finally stopped, probably wiped out of energy, Jax's face, bruised with a cut lip, broke into a wide, almost crazed smile. His body shook in the shallow water as he let out a loud laugh, tears starting to build up at the corners of his eyes. Soon, Teo followed, his own breathy laugh mixing together with Jax's crazed one. Wesley was still next to me, just a few feet away from the two who were going crazy with laughter._

 _Suddenly, a tidal wave surged several feet above our heads in a roaring rage. Before I could muster a scream, the water swallowed us all._

I had to gasp for air as I struggled off my bed and onto the floor, wide awake. My body shook with the snippets of the distorted memory flashing through my mind. It's ridiculous. Why am I even having this dream? Weren't dreams supposed to be an escape instead of a prison?

I took in big gulps of air, and my hands unconsciously patted myself down. What was I trying to find? Water? My hands fisted my pale blue sundress, already wrinkled and possibly sweaty at the back. I could already feel my heart trying to make its way out of my chest from running a mile a minute.

"Stop," I choked out, pushing at my chest with my palm to qualm the pain. A glimmer caught my eye, and I saw the silver ring on my finger glinting in pale light through the windows.

 _Breathe…_

I took one broken inhale, trying to count in my head. Four counts. Seven counts of shaking trying to keep it all in. Eight counts of a stuttered exhale. On and on until I could feel that my heart was beating in a steadier pace. Until I could hear my breathing became normal again.

Hot, sticky sweat coated my forehead. When did it get so hot?

Swallowing thickly, I shakily stood up from the floor and made my way out of the room. Water. Maybe what I needed was some water or a cooler place to stay in. The room felt too small.

I made it past the long hallway for the sleeping quarters and past the carriage where the viewing screens and bar were, all the way towards the dining carriage with the widest windows on the train. I needed to be somewhere that didn't feel like everything was closing in. I needed to be somewhere that didn't remind me of my dark future ahead.

When I reached the dining cart, my eyes zeroed in on the figure slouched on a seat: Wesley. He had taken a seat on the long couch that lined the wall below a row of wide windows. The carriage lights were off, but moonlight streamed through the wide windows and gave the surroundings a somber light. In this light, the earlier shine and magnificence of the carriage was gone. All that was there was just darkness and the full moon. His head in his hands, Wesley looked so much smaller. More like the boy I've met when I was six.

"Hey."

Wesley turned to me with a look of momentary surprise, but then he smiled in relief. The relief made his shoulders sag and his face only made me think of the word "tired." The redness and puffiness of his eyes made my chest tighten.

"Couldn't sleep as well?"

I returned his tired smile as I made my way to the plush seat beside him. "Do you want my honest answer or a simple answer?"

"Honest, if you would please," he said with a chuckle.

"I tried, but I got a...bad dream."

"Nightmare?"

Gnawing on my lip, I shook my head and answered, "No. Not a nightmare. Just...a bad dream. It's not like a ridiculous, horrifying dream. But it's still...Does any of this make sense?"

Wesley nodded slowly, and I could practically see the gears turning in his mind. "Like...something you just don't want to see?"

"Something I don't want to relive again," I admitted softly. "Do you...Do you remember what happened? After...After Caelum..."

My mouth dried up at the mention of the name. Caelum, Jaxon's older brother, volunteered for the Hunger Games after training as a Career. We were around 11 then, and he, nearly 18. A "goodbye" never left his lips because he believed that he would be saying "I'm back" soon. Everyone was so sure he would be saying "I'm back" soon, especially Jaxon—though he would never admit it.

He was the fourth in the 68th Hunger Games.

An ambush had done him in. I couldn't get the sound of his choked breaths, as a District 7 pulled on his rope until it cut his hands, out of my head for weeks after that.

"Yeah," Wesley answered in a deep exhale, his eyes becoming pained at the memory. "I can't...I can't imagine how Jax feels right now watching both of us leaving. Or what...will happen after..."

He shook his head and opened his mouth to say something more with a smile. However, it didn't quite reach his eyes, and soon after, he deflated. It looked so weird to me. Wesley always had a joke or something optimistic to say. _Always_.

Slowly, I turned in my seat and laid my head on his shoulder for comfort. Whether it's for him or for myself, it wasn't clear to me.

"Hey, Zeph, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"What did Katja talk to you about?"

I shouldn't have felt so guilty. His tone wasn't accusing at all. Still, my body tensed at the mentioned of his sister's name. Katja's scared and anxious voice rang in my mind.

"Zeph? What is it? What did she say?"

What do I do?

 _Lie._

"Zeph?"

 _That would be wrong._

I swallowed hard, seeing Wesley's sincerely concerned gaze. "I...Katja...she asked me to make sure that you win and come home."

"Make sure that I...win?" His brows came together like clouds brewing a storm. He jerked away from me. "Did she ask you to protect me? To _die_ for me?"

"Wes, look." I laid my hand on his arm to stop him from drawing away from the topic and from me. "You...your family needs you. You need to be there for when Wyatt is old enough to be entered into the games. You need to be there _to protect them_. You need to be there for Jax and Teo as well. I—"

It felt like a knife had lodged itself in my throat, and the edges of my vision slowly blurred. Not now, stupid feelings.

"I don't have as much to come back to compared to you."

Wesley shook his head adamantly, his dark eyes going wide. "That's not true!"

"Yes it is," I insisted weakly, the tired smile on my lips once more. "You have _so much_ to live for—"

"And you don't?"

I groaned. "Compared to you, Wes?"

"Don't give me that bull!"

"My own mother hates me!" I could hear my voice bouncing off the walls, and I prayed for a moment that the other passengers of the train couldn't hear this depressing drivel. My cheeks burned in embarrassment. "She'd rather turn to alcohol and work than her own daughter. I don't have any siblings to care for. I'm not fit for work on a fishing boat, and I'm pretty sure once I come back to our district, my mother will sell me to a merchant husband with the highest dowry offer."

My ring glinted in the moonlight as I raised my shaking hand. "This ring will be useless once I come home."

The thought had come to me multiple times already after I was given the sanctity of my own room in the train. Once women in well-to-do families reached 18 and survived through a Reaping, most of them are expected to marry or arranged to marry. Mostly, it was the latter, and my mother would be sure that I would not get someone at the bottom of the barrel to continue the family business. Though the night came with the promise of peace and quiet, my thoughts were loud in the confines of my mind. Sleep was the only thing that could grant me peace. Funny how that turned out.

"You know Jax and Teo won't let your mother..." Wesley shook his head, a deep frown on his lips. "No! Jax is right, Zeph. He _can't_ lose both of us, and the chances of either of us winning are dependent on how much both of us would present a fight. We owe it to them to fight."

My throat burned at the mention of Jax's desperate plea. "I don't have much to fight for, Wes. I don't even have a lot of fight in me. They're going to rip me apart, and I can't do anything to stop that. But you...you can win all of this. "

"You have a lot of fight within you too, Zephyr. We've seen it. We've _bonded_ over it," he stressed, a tinge of desperation in his tone. I swallowed hard, feeling hot tears sliding down my cheeks. "You have as much of a future as I do, and you're doing to do _great_ things. If you want me to fight, you have to fight too."

"Don't give up on me, Zeph."

"Wesley, I don't think..."

"Don't," he pleaded. "Don't give up on me now. I need you too."

As much as Wesley was easygoing and calm, fighting with him was like swimming against a current. Nothing could sway him away from what he sees is the right path. It's annoying most of the time. But I trust his instincts. I trust his heart. I trust him.

I _should_ trust him.

"Fine." I let out a deep sigh, already feeling the fight slowly leave my body. "Fine. We'll work together until the end. But when it comes down to the two of us, promise me that you'll be the one to come home. You leave me. They need you, Wes."

Wesley sucked in a sharp breath at my request. I could feel the tension in his muscles beneath my fingers.

"How about this? We both survive until the end, and I'll make sure no one even touches you. When there's only the two of us left, _we'll figure it out_." He sighed deep and placed a warm, rough hand on my shoulder. "But until there are only two of us left, you have to fight with everything that you've got in you. Promise?"

He thrust out his pinkie finger at me. The gesture almost made me crack a smile at how innocent and nostalgic it was compared to the seriousness of his request. A gentle warmth swelled in my chest. I wrapped my pinkie finger around his, and, in a synchronized move, we brought our hands up so our thumbs touched.

"Promise," I answered, staring at our joined hands. For a moment, I wondered if I made the promise because I wanted to or because I needed the comfort of our secret handshake tonight.

A soft thud from behind the closed door of the compartment caught my attention. The sound brought back the tension in my bones, and I quickly pulled my hand out of his hold so I was able to turn to face the door.

"What the hell," I whispered, squinting my eyes to try and peer into the darkness. Though the wide windows of the carriage that we were in brought in moonlight, the room still held shadows in the corners because the lights remained off. "Did you hear that?"

"No." Wesley let out a yawn, sliding down his seat so he could put his head on my shoulder. His whole body posture was different now. The tension in his shoulders was slowly fading. "Aren't you going to sleep yet?"

"I...I don't think that I can," I admitted, my voice becoming hushed when I saw my friend's eyes trying their hardest to stay open. The short disagreement that we had must have tired him out. Typical Wesley.

"You probably just need a lullaby," he slurred. Now that he was sleepy, his voice sounded like the hum of the train as it moved over the rails. His words crashed into one another.

I let out a snort. "I don't think that's what I need right now, Wes."

But my answer went on deaf ears. Wesley started humming a tune that sounded weird at first, but after a while, it started to get familiar. The song was slow and, honestly, it sounded a bit drunk. My skin tingled at the vibrations I could feel from his humming. A low chuckled bubbled from my throat after realizing what the familiar tune was, something that was frequently sung by mothers and old lady merchants in the markets. My body found it easy to relax against his side. I was glad that for even just a short time, I could have this moment with my best friend again. It was like a tiny bubble of calm and safety before I am pulled out to troubled waters.

If only this moment could last forever, I thought with a bitter smile.

In a low voice, I continued the folk song that he was humming, growing louder and louder until my voice echoed in the metal walls of the compartment. Until I could feel Wesley relax completely, sleeping next to me.

" _His hair it hangs in ringlets. His eyes as black as coal. My happiness attend him, wherever he may go._

" _From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I'll wander, weep, and moan. All for my jolly sailor, until he sails home."_

" _My heart is pierced by Cupid. I disdain all glittering gold. There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold."_

* * *

 _ **A/N: Firstly, thank you so much for the follows and favorites! It really warms my heart that you have read and liked what I've written. I'm still trying to work the writing style since I've just started writing again after a long period of drought in inspiration. Thank you especially to**_ _ **I'm a half-blood**_ _ **for giving the first review of the story! Hopefully I won't disappoint with the future chapters, and I really appreciate your kind words.**_

 _ **This chapter deals more with Zephyr's thoughts regarding her chances in the arena, and we get a glimpse into the first song sung in the series. This story won't be solely song-focused and not every chapter will have a song. However, I do think that songs and singing do have a place in the story and Zephyr's character.**_

 _ **Now, the song above is My Jolly Sailor Bold from The Pirates of the Caribbean. I know that the song is set in England, but I'd like to think that it became somewhat of a lost little folk song in their district. Plus, the lyrics fit the chapter and Zephyr's relationship with Wesley. What do you guys think? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this new chapter!**_


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